


His Little Angel

by casstayinmyass



Category: Kill Bill (Movies), Reservoir Dogs (1992) RPF, The Hateful Eight (2015)
Genre: Airports, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Cowboy Daddy, Cowboy Hats, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hitchhiking, Hurt/Comfort, Michael Madsen x Reader Smut Collection, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Public Blow Jobs, Riding, Smut, Tumblr, fan mail
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16994403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Collection of my tumblr Michael Madsen x Reader smut fics!





	1. Dear Michael (Michael Madsen x Reader)

You sign the fan letter you had been writing for Michael Madsen. It was a one in a million shot he would write back, or even read it at all– but he’s an extremely attractive man, and you couldn’t get him off your mind, so it was worth a try.

Signing the letter that contained a lot of things you wanted to do to him, you tuck a picture of yourself into the envelope, with your number and a heart on the back of it. You blush a little as you do so, feeling like a teenager with a crush on a pop star or something… but Michael made you think the dirtiest thoughts, and flirting over fan mail? Wasn’t unheard of, you suppose.

You’re out about two weeks later, shopping for something. Just as you’re approaching the cash, you feel your phone buzz. Blowing your hair out of your face, you try to balance your bags as you take it out.

It’s a single text.

_Hey doll. Caught your letter. Meet for dinner?_

- _MM_

You nearly drop your bags. MM. M fucking M????? Did Michael Madsen just text you?!?! Calmly trying to gather your senses, you type back.

_Sure thing! How about Crossroads Cafe?_

You sit down to breathe properly, and get a reply about five minutes later.

_Love that place. They know me there too, so we could get a private booth. See you there tonight, 7:30._

You fan yourself. Okay, so this is happening.

At home, you try on basically everything you have that looks good, and decide on a short dress, with your cutest panties underneath, just in case. You admire yourself in the mirror, and grab your things to go.

At the restaurant, you look around nervously, tucking your hair behind your ear. What if he didn’t show? What if his manager or someone told him this wasn’t such a good idea after all?

Just then, you feel a tap on the shoulder. You turn, and come face to face with Michael. He takes off his sunglasses, and grins.

“You must be (y/n).” He gestures to his face. “Recognized you from the photo.”

You smile. “You must be Mike. Great to meet you.”

“Hey, you too. That letter, uh…” he chuckles, putting a hand on your back, “Really got me going.”

Your cheeks heat up as he escorts you to the back table. “Oh god… I don’t even remember what I wrote. I didn’t even think you would read it! Was it bad?”

“It wasn’t anything pornographic,” he assures, then winks. “I mean, it kinda was, but I’m a big boy.” He raises his eyebrows, pulling out your chair for you then sitting opposite. “You really wanna do all those things to me?”

You groan. “Of course, or else I wouldn’t have sent it.”

He grins again. “Lucky me. In all seriousness, I don’t know… there was just something about you that I just wanted to meet you in person.”

“Happy with what you found?” you tease, lifting your water.

“Very,” he nods, eyes roaming down, and orders you guys two beers. “You cool with beer, honey?”

You nod. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem. You know, you’ve got a real sweet face and everything… but I wanna know more about you.”

Your beer comes, and you take a sip, beginning to tell him about your life. He tells you some about his, some funny anecdotes from a couple of sets, and then gets into some deeper stuff.

About an hour later, you’re both three beers in and a little looser than before. You’ve had dinner, and now you’re just hanging out. Michael’s hand is on your knee under the table, and it’s all you can do not to slide in next to him and start making out with the man.

“Hey, uh… you wanna get outta here?” he asks after a silent minute. You bite your lip.

“You bet your ass I do.”

“Speaking of asses, I would very much to check out yours,” he laughs, and tips back the last of his third beer. You giggle, and get up, spinning around. He claps for you. “That’s it. Back to my place, before I have to have you right there, against that wall.”

You gasp, arousal hitting you. You had been turned on all night, but hearing his intentions was even better.

“C'mon,” he murmurs in your ear, leaving a wad of bills om the table and slipping his sunglasses back on, “Let’s ditch this joint, baby. We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”

You take his arm, and rest your head on his shoulder as he takes you back to his convertible. A dreamy evening was about to become a dreamy night.


	2. Crack Of Dawn (Michael Madsen x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slow morning sex is not the worst way to start your day…

Your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the light of morning. You look around the room, finding your bra hanging from one bedpost, and Michael’s cowboy hat hanging from the other. His leather jacket has been tossed on the carpet in a heap, his box of cigarettes has been crumpled by one of you in a mad rush for the bed last night, and one of your socks is on the doorknob.

Jesus. Last night had been a long one, and you vaguely remember music, dancing… Oh. You groan.  _Drinks_.

A smile grows on your lips as you feel beside you, coming across your husband, who is equally as hung over, still passed out there. It must be a Sunday.

His face is away from you, and you’re treated to the sight of his muscular back, getting a slight glimpse of the tattoos around his biceps. You decide to gently coax him awake.

“Good morning,” you whisper.

He stirs, and opens one eye. “Wassat?… Mmm….”

You giggle, and press a kiss to his back, enticing him to turn around. He does, and blinks his eyes fully open, pretending to be taken aback.

“Who’s this… sexy little thing that fell into my bed?” He chuckles, the sound giving you chills. “Huh? Hey, what’s your name, baby?” His deep, gravelly morning voice never fails to turn you on.

“You’ve forgotten already?” you tease, “I told you last night.”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he grins, leaning in closer, “I can’t be trusted with a bottle.”

“So nothing we did last night meant anything?” you continue to tease him, and flip over. His hands find your shoulders, rubbing down, and he snuggles in behind you, pressing his lips to the back of your neck needily.

“Baby, don’t be like that… you know how it is…”

You smirk. “Make it up to me?”

He hums, burying his face in your hair. “A thousand times.”

You flip around again, and he snakes his arm around your middle, clutching you to him as he slowly, with a torturous pace, brings his hands down your waistband, reaching down to cup your heat.

“Ooh, that feels pretty ready to me, baby,” he murmurs, “What do you think?”

“I think I need your dick to wake me up just right,” you smile, and he tilts his head, quirking an eyebrow.

“Can’t argue with that.” He tugs your pants down, then pulls his own pants down as well, tilting your chin up to meet his and connecting your lips in a series of soft, slow kisses. He then spreads your legs with his large hands, and lifts you onto his cock, grunting softly as he buries himself in you.

“Yeah… oh, yeah…”

“Mike,” you whisper, wrapping your legs around him. His eyes shut, and he connects his forehead with yours, reaching down to rub your bud. His thrusts are lazy, early morning energy, perfect. He starts to laugh.

“I’m so fuckin hungover…”

“Me too,” you snicker, and he kisses up your neck.

“Hmmm, that’s it… how good’s that makin’ you feel?”

“So good…”

“Baby, come on… you gonna come? Hey? Come on, come for me…” he whispers after a few more minutes. You kiss him again, and he gives your ass a small smack as he tightens you in a big bear hug. Safe in his arms, you gasp his name out and come. Feeling you come around him, he lets himself go, hips stuttering as he chokes and groans into your neck.

You roll over, and he holds you close to him, catching his breath. The smell of him makes your heart want to burst– his musky aftershave and the laundry detergent you use, with a the lingering scent of the last cigarette he smoked and the last pint of beer he downed last night. You could get lost in his arms.

Finally, he rolls his larger frame over on top of you, pressing kisses all the way down from your nose to your chest.

“Mmm… so how was that?” he smirks, hovering over you so that his black hair is in his eyes. “You ready to face the day?” He gives you a silly smile, and you trail your hands down his arms, squeezing them possessively as you pull the covers up over him with your feet.

“Not yet.”


	3. Hiding Something (Joe Gage x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the patrons holed up at Minnie’s for the blizzard, you get cozy with the sexiest of the lot… the quiet cowboy in the corner.

The cowboy in the corner wasn’t a talker… but he was a looker. The slowest to make a peep out of anyone in the Haberdashery as opposed to that British man’s chatter, this cowboy wasn’t about to let one thing about himself slip… which of course meant your sights were set on cracking him immediately.

You saunter over to the table he’s sitting at, and place your elbows on it.

“Evenin.”

He looks up slowly, and, after studying you for a second, tips his hat. “It sure is.”

You huff a laugh, and stay right where you are. “What’s your name, handsome?”

He looks up again, this time leaning back enough for you to get another good, up close look at his face.

“Joe Gage.” He hesitates, raising his eyebrows at you playfully. “You really think I’m handsome?”

You giggle. “Cat’s outta the bag.”

He chuckles, looking down again. “And… what’s your name, angel?”

Surprised that he’s even engaging you any further, you smile obligingly. “(y/n).” You sit on the edge of the table, picking up his paper. “What’re you up to writing over here?”

He looks shocked for a second that you took his paper so casually, but that eases off as he adjusts to you.

“Well… that there’s, my… life story, darlin.”

“Your life story,” you drawl, eyes scanning the scribbles on the page, “Exciting.”

“Not really,” he shrugs, “Just a cow puncher. Ass in a saddle.”

“I bet it’s a great ass, though,” you giggle, and again, he’s caught off guard for a second. He shakes his head, laugh lines evident on his handsome face. “So, Joe Gage… am I in your little story?” you tease, setting the paper down and sliding it right in front of him. He eyes you, how close your low cut blouse is to his face.

“Baby… you just entered.”

You wink at him, and before you two can acquaint any more, a sharp, grating voice barks out in interruption.

“What’re you two conspiring about over there?!”

“We, we ain’t conspiring about nothing!” Joe calls back, “We just met!”

“I bet,” John Ruth scoffs, and tugs Daisy over, glaring at you two. “Move away from the cowboy, honey.”

“You, uh…” Joe looks up at John Ruth, preparing to stand.

“You can’t talk to her like that.”

“No?” John Ruth chuckles, “Who’s gonna stop me?”

“Well, I am,” Joe nods, already reaching for his holster. You put your hand out.

“No… it’s not worth getting your pistol removed by this jackhammer.”

Joe looks over to you, as you get close to John Ruth’s face. The bounty hunter looks surprised, as does Daisy.

“You don’t scare me. The big bad Hangman John Ruth ain’t comin’ for me, cause I ain’t got no interest in your damn prisoner. Now if you’d get that one simple fact through that big, suspicious head of yours, we’d settle this like adults. Got it…  _honey_?”

John Ruth growls a little, but backs off, turning and dragging Daisy away. She giggles and blows you a kiss in admiration.

“Wow,” Joe whispers to you, “If id'a talked to that bastard like that, I’d get a bullet.”

“I’m a little prettier than you, I think that helps,” you whisper back playfully, and he grins.

To avoid anymore suspicion from anyone however, you take a break from visiting Joe Gage, and head to the bar… or as Oswaldo has dubbed it, “Philadelphia”.

“What can I get you, madam?” the smiling British hangman, acting as barkeep, asks you, and you tap your fingers on the bar.

“A good, warm rum.”

“Jolly good, coming up,” he winks, and you turn, leaning back against the slab of wood and looking at Joe Gage. He’s back writing, and honestly, his lack of attention is turning you on. You’d met a lot of men in Wyoming so far, but this one was different. This one had a quiet confidence that not a lot of guys could match.

“There you are. Steady as she goes,” Oswaldo chuckles behind you, placing a mug of rum down, and you lift it up in a cheers, tipping some back.

Joe Gage looks over at you from table, unable to stop himself. Your winter dress hugs your curves perfectly, and he can’t take his eyes off your ass. What a magnificent ass it was… he whips his hair out of his face, and glances down at his notebook, figuring he might as well fill this bullshit thing with something legible, for appearances.

_There she was. Sexy as I’d ever seen, this pistol walked right over here and I was taken. I’d sure love to take her back._

~~~

It was getting late.

It had already gone dark outside, the blizzard worsening audibly, and everyone could hear the boards creaking and groaning in protest against the storm outside. The fire was going heartily though, and there were cozy blankets a-plenty here.

You’re sitting at the communal table, nursing some hot coffee, and everyone else has relaxed a little more as well. Joe is laying on the one bed in the place, legs crossed and hat over his face.

“Welp,” Chris Mannix calls, “I don’t know about you bunch, but I am tired as I ever been. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just settle in here for the night!”

“You certainly don’t need our permission, sir,” Oswaldo gestures for him to sit down, and John Ruth scoffs.

“He thinks he do.” The bounty hunter narrows his eyes. “I ain’t sleeping… so don’t anyone here get any funny ideas! ‘Specially you firecracker, and your loverboy cow puncher.”

“Someone say… loverboy cow puncher?” Joe lifts his hat nonchalantly, and you giggle. John Ruth just scowls some more, and sits himself down in a dark corner with Daisy, letting the prisoner at least get a little shut eye.

Soon, everyone retires to bed, sleeping as best they can. OB lies on the rug, Oswaldo has found a comfortable chair, Chris has draped himself in front of the fire beside the General’s chair, who has fallen asleep under a blanket, and Bob has fallen asleep in Sweet Dave’s chair, which leaves Joe Gage, lying on the bed.

You look around, and creep up to him. Without taking his hat away again, his mouth opens.

“Now how did I know… I’d see you again tonight?”

You chuckle softly. “You’re a good judge of character.”

He takes his hat off now, tossing it around the bed post. “You bet I am. And I, uh, can tell how horny you are, just from looking at you.”

You bite your lip, and move forward on the bed.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “C'mere, darlin.” You lean in, and press your lips to the cowboy’s, relishing in his larger hands gripping your face. You kiss him again and again as he moves his hands down your back, and he pulls away for a moment.

“We gotta be real quiet, now.” You nod, and he winces. “No… I mean real quiet.” He takes off his yellow kerchief around his neck, and holds it up to you. You start to grin wickedly, and nod. He smiles as well, laugh lines crinkling, and looks around, tying it around your mouth. He gags you with that yellow handkerchief, and admires you sitting pretty for him.

You lift your skirt for him, and his eyes widen a little.

“I ain’t about to argue with that.”

He pulls you forward onto his lap, and you spread your legs, putting them on either side of him. You roll your hips down, and feel how hard Joe is already. He brings you in for another rough kiss, and you unbuckle his pants, lifting your dress and sliding down onto him. He opens his mouth slightly in awe, and begins to fuck you from underneath, pounding his hips up as you clutch onto him.

“Oh, that’s good, honey,” he whispers in that orgasmically low voice, and you suppress a groan through the kerchief. “Look at you, all… tied up for me, hm?” He grins, and smacks your ass lightly as he keeps thrusting. You bounce on top of him, eyes rolling back. He was the biggest you’d ever had.

“Joe… Joe…” you manage out through the gag in a low whine, and he frowns a little. He just has to hear you say his real name.

 _“Can you keep a secret, angel?”_  You nod.

_“Mmm, mhmmm…”_

_“Name’s not Joe Gage.”_

You look up at him with inquisitive eyes.

_“…It’s Grouch Douglass.”_

“Mmm,” you moan through the gag. “Grouch… please fuck me harder.”

“Oh fuck,” he grumbles, and goes harder at the sound of you moaning his name like that, forcing you to tilt your head back and bite the gag. You will yourself not to moan. He’s having trouble keeping it down as well, as he breathes out heavy puffs of air and grunts softly.

“Baby… baby, yeah…” he whispers, and you fall forward, breasts in his face.

“Grouch, kiss me til I come,” you mumble against his lips, and he does as you ask, squeezing your ass and thrusting deep, deeper, until both of you release at the same time. Thankfully, none of the other patrons seemed to be stirring at your quiet noises, so you had pulled it off. Even John Ruth in the corner is keeping quiet.

“Fuck,” you breathe, cuddling up beside him on Minnie’s bed. You had never felt so satisfied in your life. “Grouch Douglass… you’re killer.”

He flashes you one of those mysterious grins, pecking you on the forehead as he slings an arm around you. “You have no idea, Miss (y/l/n).”


	4. Howdy Stranger (Michael Madsen x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your car breaks down during a lone road trip. A sexy stranger offers his help, and he really likes your boots.

Your cowboy boots almost reach your knees, where your denim shorts cut off just below your ass. You bite your lip, staring at your broken down car. Everybody you know had told you this was a shit idea– road tripping alone along the desert highway through Arizona? It was a surefire way of getting carjacked or left for dead, or quite simply, dying in the heat. But you had been determined to have a good time without any of your mooching friends or clingy ex partners. This was your trip.

At least, it was supposed to be, before your tire blew out. Thankfully, you had been smart enough to keep your GPS handy, and a spare tire in the trunk just in case, and had made it to a gas station just a few meters away from where it had happened. You were now standing in front of it, staring, as if that would solve something.

“I wasn’t speeding,” you assure the attendant, “Really, I wasn’t.”

“Sure, missy,” the guy just sighs, and goes to get his tool kit.

As you wait, you lean up against the car, one boot up against the wheel. Suddenly, you hear someone whistle, and turn. Behind your car, someone’s pulled up in their own ride– a beige, vintage Cadillac with the same colour upholstery.

“What’s wrong, sweet thing?” a deep, growling voice asks, and you study the man inside. Jet black hair, sexy squint, and a yellow shirt.

“Car trouble.”

“That so?” He looks out, and inspects your flat tire. You cross your arms, and blow hair out of your eye. “My friends all told me it was a bad idea to come out here alone,” you tell him, “In case something like this happened.”

“They were probably right,” the man huffs a laugh, adjusting his white cowboy hat, “But I don’t know a lot of… badass chicks who listen to the voice of reason when they got an adventure stuck in their head.”

You grin. “And how do you know I’m such a badass?”

He lifts his hands from the steering wheel, smile lines evident. “I call em like I see em, sweetheart.”

You hear the attendant call you into the station store. You jog over, your cowboy boots kicking up dust, and feel the attractive man’s eyes on you from behind.

Entering the gas station, you go up to the counter to discuss what would need to be done to the car. It’s an old car, one you had scrounged up enough money to buy, but it was going to cost you a lot to fix, as apparently, there’s something else wrong with it too other than just replacing the tire.

The door bell dings, and the stranger comes in, tipping that hat at you and browsing the beer section. You bite your lip, and watch as he hums something to himself, picking out a few bottles. You watch as he pays and heads out, and just as he’s making it back to his car, you run out, waving your hat at him.

“Wait! You still offering that ride?”

He opens one of the bottles, and hands it to you. You accept, and take a drink. He chuckles, tucking his own away for later. “Welcome aboard.”

He opens the door to the passenger’s side, closing it once you’re in. He gets in, settles back, and turns the engine on. 70s music fills the car… you’re puzzled.

“Something on your mind?” he smirks, putting it in drive.

“Just thought you seemed like more of a country music type guy,” you say slowly. He clucks his tongue.

“Nah. I’m not even a real cowboy. I’m from Chicago.”

You laugh. “You don’t have to be from some one horse town and wrangle cattle to be a cowboy at heart.”

“Y'know… I like you, angel.” He laughs with you, and notices your boots. “Those are really something.”

You look down to your breasts, and adjust them in your bra. “Guess I’ve got my mama to thank for them.”

He looks over, and sees you wink. He shakes his head, directing his gaze back to the road ahead. “You’re trouble, huh?”

“I thought you liked badass girls who cause trouble,” you tease, taking another sip from your beer.

“I do, I’m a… sucker for ‘em, sweetie. I’m also a sucker for a girl in cowboy boots… and they look damn good on you.”

You blush, looking down at them. “Thanks. I’ve had them for a while.”

“I’ve had mine for years too.” You look down at his, snakeskin black and brown ones with a skull pattern. “Huh. Yours’ve got angel wings on the side,” Michael remarks, “That’s pretty spooky, me calling you angel and all.”

“I guess I just give off that vibe,” you joke, and click your heels together. “You really find them sexy?”

“Let’s just say, I’d get you to leave the boots on in the bedroom,” he smiles, and you grin widely.

“Is that an invitation… daddy?”

He does a double take. “What was that?”

“I said was that an invitation,” you repeat sultrily, “Daddy?”

He adjusts in his seat. “Well, baby girl. You sure about… jumping into bed with the first man who picks y'up?”

You smile, and as he drives, you slowly sneak a hand to his jeans.

“I didn’t say anything about a bed.”

He chuckles, mostly in disbelief. “You usually this much of a little slut?”

You shrug, grinning. “Only with men who make me as wet as you do.”

“Yeah?” he mumbles, “And… how wet are you, baby girl?”

You run your legs together. “Find out for yourself.”

He nods to himself. “Now that’s an offer I just can’t pass up.”

He pulls the car over, and you climb on top of him as he slides the seat back. Reaching down between your legs, you unzip his jeans, and he unzips your shorts, pulling them down.

“You’re so big,” you bite your lip, and he pats your hip.

“It’s okay, baby. Once you slide down, it’ll feel real good.”

You grin, and bury him inside of you, rocking down and moaning. He groans softly, shaking his head in awe as he guides your hips slowly and smiles. As you ride him, you take his cowboy hat, putting it on your head and holding onto it as he chuckles and admires how you look in it. You keep on like this, him gently fucking you from underneath, and you lean forward.

“Touch me?”

“Course.”

He feels your breasts in his hands, and rubs them together, squeezing. You bite back a squeal, and rock down faster.

“You gonna come, pretty girl? Hm?”

“Yeah, daddy, yeah, I’m… I’m close…”

“Mmm, s'good… fuck, angel…”

He pounds up suddenly. “Fucking perfect for me. Oh yeah…”

You suddenly feel your orgasm wash over you, listening to his deep voice, and breathe out shakily as his hips also stutter.

“Gonna come, baby girl,” he breathes, and you lift off of him as he jerks himself to completion, coming on your stomach. You smile, and lean down to kiss him slowly.

“That…” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Hit the spot.” You take his hat off with a giggle, and fit it back on him.

“Feel free to give me a ride anytime, Mike. Until then, it might be a while until my car is fixed.”

He smirks, fixing his hair and sitting back up. “I’ve got all day, sweetheart.”


	5. Comfort (Joe Gage x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is on her period, and Joe takes care of her.

You moan softly, turning over. Beside you, your husband takes notice of your discomfort. 

“Whassa matter, sweetie?” he asks in that deep drawl, his voice vibrating through his chest as he hugs you from behind. It’s the middle of the night, and the snow blowing around your little house is all you can hear over the fire. 

Your husband Joe had been away on a job with the gang, but he had returned this morning, with (stolen) jewelry from the last town they sacked and both of your favorites, a bag of peppermint sticks to share. You had tried to keep the discomfort over your time of month from him, but it was getting extremely painful at this point. 

You whimper softly. 

“Hey… hey, little darlin’, what’s got you down?” he whispers, brushing hair from your neck and kissing it. 

“’M really hurting,” you reply, whimpering again.

“Lemme guess… you, uh, dropped the axe on your foot choppin’ firewood while I was gone.”

“Really?”

“Okay okay, you, uh… you were out making a snowman, and you fell in a ditch?”

“Joe…” You roll your eyes. “It’s my time of month.”

He looks genuinely caught off guard. “Oh. Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

“Again?”

“Hm, my time of month coming once every month… imagine that!”

He laughs gently into your hair. "Sorry. That was stupid. How bad’s it?“  

You curl in a little more, wincing. "Remember that time Pete accidentally shot you in the stomach? And you came home and basically felt like you were dying, and we both didn’t know if you would make it through the night?”

He huffs. “How could I forget? That English idiot…”

“Well, that’s how it feels.”

Joe stares at you incredulously. “You’re telling me that every month, you feel like you got shot in the gut?”

You turn to face him, your noses touching. “Yep.”

“Shot by Pete, goddammit?”

“Oh yeah.”

He blinks. “Hell, honey. Never knew it was that bad. Let me, uh… try and make it feel a little better, okay?”

“How?” you pout. The pain is terrible, and all you want to do was scream into the vast mountains of Wyoming behind your little cottage about it.

“Let me start by doing this…” He starts to rub your stomach gently, his warm hands heating the area pleasantly. By no means does it help all too much, but it’s comforting.

“Mmm… keep doing that,” you smile hazily.

“Yeah?” he murmurs in your ear, “Does my honey like that?”

“Yeah, your honey sure does, now get back to the place where you… mm, yeah, there, baby.”

“You know something?” he whispers, moving his hand in slow, soothing strokes up to just barely graze your breasts before bringing it down to sweep your underclothes.

“What…?”

“I thought now would be a good time to tell you this. You being pretty… laid up, and moany, y'know, moody… and you can’t get up it leave cause I’m being too sappy…”

You give him warning eyes, and he chuckles, putting his other hand up in surrender.

“What is it?” you repeat softly.

“Well (y/n), I… just thought I’d tell you how much you mean to me. Life wouldn’t be nearly as precious without a feisty girl to come home to… go out with… cuddle up by the fire after a long day with…” He frowns a little. “I guess… what I’m trying to say, and I’m not doin’ too well at it, is, uh… I love you, honey.” He stares into your eyes. “I really do. So much. For ever and ever. You’re my girl, and I’ll always look after my girl.”

You feel tears gather in your eyes as you let out a whine.

“Baby, you can’t tell me stuff like that right now.”

“O-okay, why not?”

You grin. “Because I’m very emotional right now, and I’m going to bawl my eyes out.”

He chuckles, hugging you to him.

“That wouldn’t be so bad. Then I’d have more reason to hold you close, right?”

“You can hold me close whenever you so feel like it, Joe Gage,” you slap him on the shoulder playfully.

“I think I’ll take you up on that, Mrs. Gage,” he winks, kissing your forehead and then your lips. As he continues to rub your aching stomach, you sober up a little, sighing.

“Honestly. You okay with it?”

“Okay with what?”

“…all of this bleeding of mine?”

He readjusts himself, fixing you with a stern look. “First of all… what I am or am not okay with… is pretty fucking far from what is relevant right now. Second…” He gives a big grin. “Since when have I ever been scared of a little blood?”

You giggle, and let him pull you back against his chest with the heavy blanket over you both for the night.


	6. Help Me Out (Michael Madsen x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an airport bathroom, you need so badly to show Michael how much you want him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written while feeling veeeery slutty lol.

Being Michael Madsen’s girlfriend at times felt like the hardest job in the world. Not because of Michael himself– he’s an absolute angel of a boyfriend, but because of his fame. He’s much older than you, so all the magazines call your relationship all sorts of things, judging him for dating someone younger, accusing you of dating him for his money. But Michael always puts a protective arm around you when you see the headlines, telling you, “Don’t listen to ‘em, honey. They don’t know us.”

Beyond that, everything about dating him is amazing, but above all else, the sex is absolutely mind blowing.

He could never refuse his girl anything.

Currently, you two were early for a flight in Santa Monica, and you were feeling needy. Pawing at your boyfriend’s leather sleeve, you give him puppy eyes.

“What is it?” he smirks, looking over, “What’s got you all pouty?”

You look around, and smile as you slowly tug his hand down between your thighs. “You.”

He chuckles, not bothering to remove his hand. “Your little pussy all wet for me, baby? Is that the problem?”

You nod your head. “Yes, daddy.”

He shifts so he can get a better view of you in your seats, waiting by the terminal. “What should we do about that, hm?” His voice is growling and low, moreso even than usual, and it’s making your pussy clench.

You adjust in your seat. “I know something that could make me feel better.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I’m all ears, angel.”

You grin wickedly, and get up, beckoning. He obliges you, looks around, and slips off his sunglasses, pocketing them in his leather jacket. You both head toward the men’s washroom, and with you trailing behind Michael, nobody really gives you a second look.

“I think I know what you need,” he nods, and you two move into a stall, locking the door. He strokes his thumb across your cheek tenderly, and you get down on your knees. He watches you smugly, looking down, and you bat your eyelashes up at him, lips parting. You lick your lips as he unzips his jeans, and you realize in a lustful haze that he’s not wearing boxers. You greedily reach forward to kitten lick his tip, getting him hard. It doesn’t take long– he lets out a low moan that sends shivers through your already aroused body. His fingers thread through your hair, and he takes his cock in his hand, slipping it between your lips and pushing forward a tiny bit. You moan around his thick erection, and slide forward on your own accord, taking him to the back of your throat. His deep voice grumbles out as you swallow around the tip at the back of your throat.

“Baby girl, you’re a real talent.”

You smirk up at him and wink, and his hand gets a little more forceful, pushing you down on him. You moan again, letting him know you want that, and he starts to slowly and gently fuck your mouth, each thrust with more force.

“Mmm,” you mumble, hollowing out your cheeks. Your tongue plays with his cock as he slides in again, and he bites his lip, gently massaging your scalp.

“That’s it, baby… that’s it. Just what daddy needs. ’S it good for you?”

You nod feverishly. You’re so wet. You’re rocking down onto your heel, trying to get some friction, and as you feel his cock hit the back of your throat once more, you rub perfectly against your hand, sending you gasping and arching. Michael chuckles above you, looking down.

“Did my angel come? Hm? Just from sucking daddy off?” He strokes your cheek. “Aww. I haven’t even come yet, baby. You musta been pretty ready for me, huh? I had no idea daddy’s little princess was such a whore.”

You nod eagerly, still riding the waves of your orgasm with a slutty little sigh. He taps your chin. “I’m gonna come in your mouth, okay babygirl?” You nod. “And you’re gonna swallow for me.”

“Yeah,” you whine, and he pushes all the way inside your mouth, groaning deep as the back of his head hits the stall. You moan as well, feeling the first spurt of cum on your tongue, and you swallow all of it, squirming and bobbing your head. When he’s finished, his chest is heaving ever so slightly, and he tilts your chin up, panting.

“That feel better, baby?”

He helps you to your feet, and you snuggle into his shoulder, nipping his ear.

“Much better, daddy.”

He hums in satisfaction, and takes your hand, squeezing it.

“Tuck daddy up, and we’ll head out. Don’t wanna miss our flight now.”

You zip him back into his pants and buckle his belt up slowly, giving him doe eyes the entire time. He just smirks at you.

“Love you, sweetheart,” he says, kissing your temple, and you loop your arm around his, still holding his hand.

“Love you too.”


	7. 13th (Michael Madsen x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and your friends go camping at Crystal Lake. A nearby resident, a sexy biker named Michael, knows a secret and prepares for the worst– to save you from a terrible killer.

The dirt road crunches under the tires of the 4x4, browning leaves hitting the windows as you all drive through the brush. In the back seat, Mara keeps going on and on about how she was overcharged at the nail salon.

“And then I went back, right, and told them! I fucking told them, I was overcharged four bucks! And then– get this guys– and then they actually had the gall to say to my face, ‘that’s the included tip’.” The brunette balks. “I mean, what kind of fucked up world are we living in where we pay included tips now! It’s unconstitutional! Like they need it anyway, with how much I pay for the actual nails.”

“The kind of world where a girl gets fake tits for her 18th birthday,” Kiki mutters beside her, looking up from her Prisoner Of Azkaban book, and Mara gasps, whipping around.

“Nobody asked you, bitch! That was five years ago!”

Kiki just gives her the finger with a devilish little grin, and you rub your temples. You love your friends, but they can be a bit much sometimes.

“What do you think, (y/n)?” Mara asks you.

“I don’t, uh… usually get my nails done,” you shrug, looking down. They looked fine to you.

“You should,” your boyfriend, Alex, scoffs, “They could use a little polish.”

“They could,” Ray nods from the back, and you turn.

“Ray, your opinion is the only one that matters to me. How would red look?”

Ray shakes his head. “Disgusting. Soft peach polish goes with your complexion.”

The truck takes a quick turn, and you can start to see a gap in the thick woods.

You, your boyfriend, and your three other friends had been planning a weekend at Camp Crystal Lake for a while, and before the weather got cold, you decided to go.

You only really agreed to date your boyfriend, only a year older than you and a huge jerk, because you wanted to get everyone off of your back about your recent fling with Professor Keitel, which seriously changed your reputation. So, you fucked around with your sexy drama professor a little! You just did what everyone else was thinking of doing.

Anyway, you didn’t want to be known as the campus slut anymore, so you had agreed to go out with the douchiest, more horrid frat boy around just so you could say you were in a solid, “normal” relationship, with normal friends. Big mistake. Thankfully, you had come to the conclusion that you would use this trip to the cabin to break up with him. There’s no use pretending to be someone you’re not.

Just then, there’s a bump, squeal, and the truck sputters out.

“Shit!” Alex curses, hitting the steering wheel, “I just put all my money into this fucking thing!”

“Hey,” you notice, “There’s a house up there.”

Everyone turns to see that just up the road there’s a nice looking three story cottage. As you approach, you look around the property. The large place is obviously owned by somebody wealthy. They’ve got a black Harley parked out front and a cowboy hat hanging off of it. There’s a bulldog lying on the porch, and he only really takes notice of you, licking your hand.

Alex knocks on the door, and you all stand around to wait.

A middle aged man answers the door, and you take in the sight of him. Big build, black hair brushed back, a casually unbuttoned shirt and jeans, and a cigarette hanging from his thin lips. He looks out, and his squinted gaze stops on you. You immediately feel yourself blushing. Dammit. He’s just your type.

Sensing this, your “boyfriend” puts his arm around your waist and pulls you to him. The man notices this, and raises his eyebrows, flicking his butt onto the gravel.

“Can I help you kids?” he asks, rubbing his hands together, and your knees go weak. His voice is deep and sexy too. Fuck.

“We… just need to use your phone, sir,” Mara says, eyeing him warily, “Our car’s not working.” He squints out at the car down the road.

“No need. I’ll take a look at it for ya.”

“Hey hey,” your boyfriend puts a hand on the guy’s chest, “I’m not paying you or anything, buddy.”

Again, the man raises his eyebrows, and, towering over your boyfriend, looks down at the hand on his chest. “That’s real good, cause, uh… I ain’t charging ya anything. Buddy.”

You melt, and follow him over to the car while your friends all stand back.

“Hey,” you tuck your hair behind your ear and sit on a rock, crossing your legs. “I’m really sorry. He’s a dick sometimes.” The man just smiles.

“I got that.” He sticks a hand out, running his eyes over your tank top and denim shorts. “I’m Michael. What’s your name, sweetie?”

You blush, and bite your lip. “(y/n).”

He smirks. “Cute name for a cute little lady.”

You smile, and look around. “Nice place. You live here all year round?”

He shakes his head, tinkering around under the truck, “It’s my vacation home for the summer. I usually live in LA.”

“You a movie star or something?” you grin.

“Or something,” he huffs with a laugh. “It’s a good place to escape the smog. Crystal Lake may be full of a lot of things, but fresh air is sure one of em.”

You bite your lip. “What else is it full of?”

He shrugs slightly. “Myths. Legends, you know… and the tragedy that happened back in the 80s.”

“That masked machete wielding murderer?” you smirk, “He died all those years ago.” He cocks his head, wiping some grease off his hands.

“I know it sounds like it’s straight off the pages of a horror film script. Trust me, I’ve read scripts better than this. But…” he shakes his head. “I don’t know, it’s a spooky thing.”

You see the serious discomfort in his eyes, and frown a little.

“Hey! You done flirting with my girl, dude?!” your boyfriend shouts over, and Mike turns.

“Almost, asshole.”

You giggle, and your friends all gasp. In a rage, your boyfriend comes stomping over (he has guts, you’d give him that much), but just as he reaches Mike, the man stands and holds up a wrench. Everyone backs away, until Michael just uses it to scratch his head. “Fixed.” As Michael turns to walk back up his porch, you call after him.

“Hey,” you run up, “Can I at least give you five bucks for the trouble?”

He shakes his head. “No trouble, sweetheart. It was worth it meeting a girl like you.” The dog barks, and he grins. “See? You got a secret admirer.”

You laugh, and Mara beckons.

“Coming?!”

Michael turns to the car as you get in.

“Where are you kids heading, anyway?”

“The camp down by the lake,” Ricky says. Michael appears visibly uncomfortable again.

“Figures. You, uh… you really shouldn’t be going down there.”

“What are you, the park ranger?!” Alex blurts.

“Listen up, shitface. You ever hear about the murders down there?”

“Of course,” Mara says, “That’s what makes it so cool. Jason Voorhees? He’s a legend!”

Mike looks down. “It’s really not safe. There could be… anything, hiding out in these parts. I mean, there’s a reason I live so far up from the lake, and look at me. I’m a scary motherfucker on my own.” He winks at you.

“What could be out there?” you ask nervously, “I mean… Jason couldn’t be.” Mike is about to hesitantly say something, before he’s interrupted.

“He’s just trying to intimidate us,” Alex says, and starts the ignition, “We needed you for your mechanical help, not for your advice, dude.”

You look at Michael, and he looks at you. You get chills as you think of his warning, but before you can say anything else to the attractive stranger, the truck drives off. Mike sighs, and looks away, thinking of you.

—

The cabin is homey, and everything you love about camping. It’s got throw blankets and a fireplace, so you’re all set.

After some swimming in the lake, you settle in by the fire as the sun goes down, and finish off your fourth cider.

“Mmm,” you hum, and look over to your boyfriend. He’s also tipsy, along with Mara, Kiki and Ray. As you sit on the couch, with one of Alex’s hands feeling down your waistband, you can’t help but get aroused, thinking of Michael today. His deep voice… his tattoos… the way he kept running his hand through his hair to get it out of his face… Lines blur with the alcohol, and before you know it, you’re making out. As your boyfriend keeps touching you, Michael’s smirk is the only clear thing in your mind, and you’ve soon moved into Alex’s lap, kissing him rough and grinding down.

“Fuck, babe,” he groans, and you imagine Michael’s big, strong hands running up your back, moving to slide your pants down.

Sweetheart, I wanna fuck you so hard, he’d whisper. You moan, already wet but wishing what you were grinding against wasn’t so small. Then suddenly, you hear a loud crack echo outside, like something sharp had hit a tree.

Startled out of the mood, you and Alex look up from making out, Kiki and Mara look up from basically undressing each other on the other couch, and Ray looks up from taking his third hit from the bong.

“What was that?” Mara mutters, and Kiki groans.

“Screw it, kiss me…”

“Shut the fuck up, and listen!”

Everyone listens, and hears crickets and wind. Then another crack echoes… only closer.

“What the hell kinda asshole is out there wacking at the poor trees?” Ray asks, half baked, and Alex scoffs.

“Why don’t you go ask, Mr. Save the Forests?”

“What is it?” you wonder cautiously, getting up and swaying a little. You walk over to the window, but don’t see anything out there in the dark, except a couple of fireflies and some branches illuminated in the light from inside.

“Don’t stand by the window, (y/n),” Mara says, “I’ve seen every single horror movie, and that’s how you get dragged out.”

“Okay,” you murmur, and Alex scoffs.

“You’re not pulling that bullshit legend up, are you?!”

Mara smiles, flipping her perfectly straightened hair over her shoulder. “I don’t know, I think it would be cool to get killed by Jason Voorhees.”

You get chills. “I’m sure the poor counselors at this camp didn’t think so.”

Mara sighs. “It’s all sad and shit, sure, but it’s fun to be scared. Here.” She jumps up, much to Kiki’s dismay, and opens the door.

“What are you doing?” you ask nervously.

“Having fun,” Mara giggles, “That’s what we came here to do, isn’t it?”

You four watch her swing her hips as she walks out into the woods just by the old camp cabin, and Kiki bites her nails, pounding on the wall.

“Come back in, you idiot!”

Mara sticks her tongue out, and goes running off into the woods.

“Aw, let her,” Ray mutters, “It was probably a woodpecker or something anyway.” Suddenly, you notice something glinting in the tree stump, and you cover your mouth.

“Did a woodpecker leave that?!”

You all look out to see the machete.

“Oh shit,” Alex laughs, “The woodsman’s been here. Pruning guys use those all the time.”

“Why would he be pruning in the middle of the night?!” you snap, and turn back. The machete is now missing. “Oh god…” you whisper.

“I’m going to find her,” Kiki says.

“Kik–”

“I have to!”

Ten minutes later, a scream prompts everyone else to go running out into the woods, and you gasp at what you see. Mara is swinging from one of the trees, eyes gone and her head split. Blood drips onto the mulch by your feet, and you feel tears gather. "Holy fuck,“ Alex mutters. 

"Michael was right,” you whisper. “Where’s K–?” Just then, Kiki falls on top of you three from above– half of her. 

You all run, and just as you’re getting to the lake, you hear Ray scream, and hit the ground. Your heartbeat increases as you turn back to see a huge, masked man pull the machete from his back, and stalk toward you and Alex. Alex gulps, shaking a little. 

"It’s t-that guy that f-fixed our car." 

You shake your head solemnly. "No it’s not." Alex takes a step toward the killer, and puts up some fists. "Alex, back off! It’s not–”

“I can t-take you, you big scary fuck!" 

Whack. 

You scream as Alex’s head slices clean off, and take off running through the woods. Don’t hit any stumps and trip, please please please…. 

You finally make it to the road, and you scream as loud as you can, over and over until your voice is hoarse. You look behind you and see that the masked killer is gone, and you close your eyes for a second. Half an hour, and all your friends are dead. It’s like a nightmare. 

"HELP!” you scream, and suddenly look up. The killer is standing directly across the street from you, hockey mask and all. “HEEELP!” you screech. Just then, headlights approach, and a motorcycle rev sounds. Your heart beats hopefully, and you flag whoever it is down. "Michael,“ you gasp. 

"Get on, angel, quick,” he tells you, and you swing your leg over the seat, holding onto him from behind as he tears out. He rides you back to his house fast, Jason disappearing behind you as you two ride away. Back at his place, he holds you to him as you try to explain in hysterics. "Hey, hey, hey, shhh…“ he says softly, pressing his lips to the top of your head and holding you to his chest. Your body is confused– you’re reeling from the horror you had just witnessed, but you had also been aroused not twenty minutes ago, thinking of this man who was holding you to his chest right now. He smells so uniquely him, or what you know of him, like fresh tobacco and aftershave. You want to breathe him in forever. 

"Mmm,” you whine, holding onto him, and he strokes your hair. 

“Shhh, angel, I know, I’ve gotcha." 

"H-how did you know I was…?" 

"Like I said,” Mike blinks down at you, “It’s not safe down there. I tried to warn your… asshat boyfriend there, but he wouldn’t listen. So I decided to stick around, wait and see if you needed help. Where are all your friends?” 

You moan, letting him hold you, and clutch his jacket. 

“Dead." 

"Shit… honey, I’m sorry." You moan some more. 

"I know, sweetie. I know.” He cups your face. “You hurt?" 

"No,” you shake your head. 

“That’s good…" You sit down on the bed, and he goes to get you something to drink. "I don’t have any… tea, or anything, just whiskey, darling.” You nod, and he hands you the bottle. You take a long drink from it, and sigh as he also sits next to you. 

“Michael…” He looks over.

“Please, call me Mike.”

You bite your lip. “Mike. Make me feel safe." 

He raises his eyebrows, and squeezes your shoulder. "I’m trying, darlin.” 

You’re so close to his face, and his eyes are staring into yours. You can practically feel his breath on your lips, but you can tell he’s not going to make the first move. In a surge of want, you rush forward and press your lips to his. He stays still for a few seconds, but after a moment, he cups your head from behind, gently weaving his fingers through your hair. 

“Mmm,” he mumbles against your lips, “You sure you want this?" 

You nod, whimpering, and he rolls you back onto the bed, parting your legs. He undoes the button on your denim shorts, and slides them down your legs, feeling along them as he does. He then presses soft kisses along your neck as he pulls down your panties as well, sliding two fingers into you. You arch off the bed, letting out a moan, and reach down to undo him. 

"Ah… we’ll get to that, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and continues to finger you deeply, each thrust moving you higher into the pillow. 

“Mike… Mike… Michael,” you gasp, and come hard around his fingers. He chuckles. 

“That was quick. Guess I… won’t have any trouble here.” You smirk, and continue unzipping his jeans, revealing his tight boxers and hard on underneath them. You take his boxers down, and practically drool at the sight of Michael’s cock. It’s bigger than you imagined, so much bigger than Alex, and you want it inside you. First, however… 

“Can I suck your cock, daddy?" 

He chokes a little, then hums. "You want to, princess? That’s what would make your pretty little heart happy?" You nod, batting your eyelashes. "Well then… okay." 

He lets you crawl into his lap, holding his dick upright as you bring your mouth down over it, taking as much as you can fit into your mouth. He exhales through his nose, gently coaching your movements, and finally, when he decides he’s too close, he taps you to pull off. You crawl back on the bed, and he fits his large body over yours, holding your wrists together as he slowly buries himself inside of you, inch by inch. 

"That alright?” he whispers, and his voice sends you shivering. 

“Mhmm,” you bite your lip, and he starts to move, hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you on the first try. “Ah… ahh…" 

"Real tight,” he mumbles, groaning, “You feel so sweet for daddy." 

"Daddy, fuck me harder,” you moan, and he starts to move a little faster, until the headboard is smacking up against the wall with every thrust. You suddenly stop him. “Will you take me from behind?" 

He nods. "Hell yeah, baby. Anything for you.” You flip over onto your stomach, and part your legs for him. He slides in again, picking up his pace, and whispers praise in your ear, the feeling of his enveloping frame on top of you turning you on. Soon, you’re close again, and so is he. “Gonna come, baby girl… so close now." 

"Me too… oh, oh Michael…" 

He groans your name, and you shriek into the pillow as an explosive orgasm hits you. He pulls out and comes on your thigh, and you both just lay there on his bed, breathing through the haze. "I’ve gotcha,” he whispers, “You know that." 

"Thank you…” you murmur back, and bury your face in his chest, his arm coming to wrap around you. 

A little later, as you’re fast asleep under his covers, he gives the dog a pat and looks out the window. Jason is standing across the street, machete in hand. Michael clenches his jaw, and makes sure his door is double locked. 

“You’re not gonna get to her, you bastard. You’ll have to go through me first.”


	8. You Started It (Mr. Blonde x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vic teases you in the diner. You don’t let him get away with it.

It was supposed to just be a harmless breakfast.

“Have pancakes with the boys and me!” Vic said, “It’ll be fun!” he said.

Truth be told, it’s always fun when you’re invited along to spend time with the Dogs. They’re all good guys, and they all like you– you’re a solid fit for the “psycho” of the group, as White puts it, and you decide to take that as a compliment.

But the time between eating and waiting for the others to finish while Brown goes on about his new favorite song drags on, and soon, Vic starts doing what he does best… teasing you.

Your breath hitches as you feel his hand paw at your knee under the table, opening your legs. You bite your lip, and pretend to be interested in Freddy’s little anecdote he’s injected into the conversation, but your mind is on Vic’s fingers between your legs, lightly stroking your panties. You bite your lip, and gently shift into his movements, hips arching off the chair. He continues to rub gently, slowly, and with purpose, as he seems completely engaged in the conversation at the same time. He quickens his pace, and you gasp a little, heat in your stomach beginning to build. You try to control your face, but it’s almost impossible when your sexy boyfriend is stroking your pussy in public, in front of all his friends, not giving a single fuck about it.

“Vic,” you whisper, but he just gives you a reassuring hum in response, going even faster with his fingers, dragging them against your clit through your panties.

“Fuck,” you can’t help but mutter, and his fingers give one last quick rub, and you’re coming in your seat, hiding your face in the napkin as you try not to shake. Vic strokes you through it, then when he can feel you’re done, he pats your thigh, and goes to settle back– but you’re not having it.

“Sorry to interrupt– we’ll be right back,” you say, and get up, grabbing Vic’s wrist and taking him with you. He follows, and you practically shove him into the washroom, pinning him to the wall. It’s cramped, and your pelvis is pushed up against his bulge, which is half erect after what he just did. He puts his hands up playfully.

“Am I under arrest, officer?”

You scowl. “Yes, unless you do that again.”

“So demanding…” Vic tuts, looking down and shaking his head in feigned disappointment, “Has babygirl forgotten her place?”

You growl, tugging him closer. “I need you again, Vic. Now.”

“Well, uh… I should punish you for talking back like that,” he cocks his head, eyebrows lifting, “But seeing as I love watching you come… I’m inclined to give in.”

Without warning, he reaches under your skirt, and roughly shoves three fingers into you, lifting you against the wall with a bang. He starts curving them immediately and pumping them in and out, brow furrowed in concentration. You gasp, at his mercy again, and the force with which he’s fingering you almost makes you moan loud enough for the others to hear out there.

“If you want to moan like a slut, moan,” he tells you, “That’s what you are, people should know it.”

“Daddy,” you gasp, face pressed into his shoulder, and your grip on his arm tightens as he goes even deeper, curling his fingers to repeatedly assault your g spot, with his wrist acting as friction for your clit.

“Gonna come again?” he asks, “For the second time today, you gonna come from daddy’s fingers alone? Imagine what I could do with my cock today.”

You palm him through his pants, but he shakes his head. “Later. Right now, we’re gonna get you nice and satisfied, so daddy can finish his breakfast, and when we get home, he’ll fuck his girl good, got it?”

“Mhmm,” you whine, completely stripped of any sass you had earlier for him. Your ass bounces as he doesn’t let up on his pace fingerfucking you. He starts to feel you clench around him.

“That’s it. That’s right, come for me, let me see how good you are, how much you need it,” he whispers, and you clutch onto his tux jacket, groaning.

“So pretty,” he mumbles, “Fuck, you’re gorgeous, angel.”

You come hard, and he strokes you through it, waiting until you’re fully done until he takes his fingers out, licking them clean.

“Alright. I’m gonna eat you out later, then I’m gonna, uh… fuck you into the matress, kay babygirl?” he asks, and you breathe out, your hair messed up and cheeks flushed.

“Yes, please.” You hang onto Vic’s arm as he leads you back out. “You know, this isn’t the end of it. I’m gonna give you a handjob under the table next time.”

“I look forward to it,” Vic chuckles, kissing your cheek.

You approach the round table again, your legs knocking together a little as you smile hazily.

“So. How was the sex?” Pink asks frankly, and Freddy stifles a giggle.


	9. Sidewinder [Volume I]  (Budd x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re a member of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad. Budd is just what you need, but do you need more?

You enjoyed the name Bill had so fondly picked out for you. Taipan. The world’s deadliest snake.

You had only been working with the Vipers for about a year, but it was a seamless incorporation into the team. You got along well with each member—especially Sidewinder.

Budd could never keep his eyes off you. You were talented at knowing exactly when a man was picturing you taking off your clothes, but with Budd, it was all the time. The looks he gave you– like he wanted to devour you, just like his snake of calling would prey– intrigued you.

See, the first thing you did when you joined the team was assess who you would sleep with, and who was off limits. A girl’s got to have limits when travelling in a close knit pack of attractive assassins.

O-Ren? Attractive, but too dedicated to her work to probably notice you in any other way than a confidant.

Vernita? Straight. She’s made it clear.

Elle? A fucking knockout, but a dangerous one. She’s OFF limits.

Bill? Well. We won’t go there yet.

Bea? She’s different.

And then there was Budd.

Although he came off as a tough guy, he got some of his older brother’s charm with his own little twist. He was different, and frustrating– serious when things were light, and funny when things were serious. He didn’t take himself as serious as the others, but you got the sense he was dumbing himself down so he wouldn’t stand out as the best.

Tonight, Budd runs a damp cloth down his arm, where a deep gash runs down.

“Fuck,” you hear him grit out, and stop on your way by.

“Be grateful it wasn’t a Hattori Hanzo. You would’ve lost your arm. He looks up, and huffs.

"Yeah.”

You stare at him a while as he switches to stitching, and he looks back up, staring back.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?” he hesitates expectantly. You fold your arms.

“Let yourself fall into those situations. You could get out of them.”

“You think I wanted someone to tear my arm to shreds?” he scoffs, going back to his work, “You are one crazy bitch.”

“Hey,” you stand square in front of him, “You’re not the fucking palooza Bill and the others think you are.”

“Thanks. I’ll remember that next time I’m crying alone in my room, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, and brush past him, knocking the previously-sterile needle out of his hands. “Fuck,” he repeats gruffly, and you feel his eyes on you as you walk off toward the pit, where you know Beatrix is.

“Hey,” you say, opening the door. The blonde whirls around, nearly kicking you in the face, but you grab her by the shin, twisting her. She lands on the ball of her foot, spins, and kicks again, twice to your knee. As you fall, you flip her, and the two of you crash to the floor.

“Draw?” she croaks out, reaching behind her. You shake her hand.

“Yeah.”

“Bill’s best assassins,” she huffs, taking off her gloves and laughing. You help her up.

“Ruthless trained killers.”

You go over with her as she sprays herself with a bottle. “Sorry about that. Thought you were Vernita. We’ve had this thing…”

“Yeah, where you try to kill each other every time the other one enters the room? We’ve all noticed. That glass table in the living room didn’t shatter itself.”

“The carpet’s still covered in her blood,” Bea grins in sadistic satisfaction, and you raise an eyebrow, handing her a towel.

“Which O-Ren practically had a meltdown over when she had her new slippers on, let me just point out. But I have to admit, the red goes with that vase on the mantle.”

“What can I say? I have an affinity for decorating,” Bea smirks, and you two walk out together into the long hallway of the flat. The penthouse suite here in Shanghai that operated as the main digs for the seven of you was the most expensive property in the city, but Bill didn’t care. The luxury was worth it, he said, as he loved to spoil his girls.

“Aw. Does that make you my sugar daddy, honey?” Budd had joked, and Bill had resisted the urge to whack his brother upside the head and settled instead for a long, annoyed glare.

"Watch this,” O'Ren stops you two, “Elle’s got a dime coming my way in fifteen seconds.”

“Like, a 10/10 girl, or an actual coin?” you joke. O'Ren cocks her head.

“I could slice both in half, so it doesn’t really matter.” A coin whizzes by her face, and in the matter of a split second, she slices the dime in half with her

“Did it work?” Elle asks, sauntering in around the corner. O'Ren smirks, opening her palm to reveal two halves. The two do a secret handshake, and you and Bea keep going.

“Did you see what happened to Budd?” she asks, shaking her head.

“Yeah,” you mutter, “He’s slow on missions.”

“I’d say he’s just clumsy.”

“That too.”

That night as you go to sleep though, staring at the shadows of the skyscrapers outside on your wall, you think of Budd. His deep, drawling voice… the way he looks at you. Your hand slides down between your legs, and you close your eyes.

–

“That was a shit show!” Elle announces, and you all collapse back into the flat. Two weeks from where you started, you’d just acquired the head of a crime boss… who knew you were coming. While you had succeeded in killing him, his hundred other acolytes had definitely run you out of there fast. So, somewhat of a success. Somewhat of a failure. Two guesses as to which one Bill considered it.

“Fuck,” Budd huffed, using his gun to support him. A bullet had grazed his knee, and while it tore open his pants and skin a little, he was okay. Vernita had gotten one in the shoulder… Bea had taken it out, with your help. You had knife slashes all over your neck– but at least you’re still breathing.

“Taipan,” Bill says, nodding to you, “Good job.” You look down at Bea, who gives you a reassuring smile. She knows what’s coming for her, the usual chat.

While the others are recovering, and Bill is giving them a calm ‘talk’ about the importance of working together, not going rogue (this last anecdote was directed solely at Beatrix) you slip away.

Walking fast, you get to an empty corridor, and close your eyes, resting your head back against it.

Fuck. Sensory overload– assassins got it too. You just needed to breathe.

“You okay?”

You open your eyes, and see Budd blocking the light from beside you.

“Yeah,” you answer, too quickly. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“Don’t fuckin’ shoot me, but uh… you just seemed a little off your game.”

“I am not off my game,” you growl, cocking your handgun, “If I was, I’d be dead.” He chuckles, putting his hands up.

“Okay, wrong words. You checked in on me the other day… this is me, checkin’ in on you, angel.” You sigh through your nose, and glance over.

“How are you?”

“Fine. Just a couple scratches.” You laugh. It’s actually funny to you how this life teaches you to pass these injuries off. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. We’re just fucked up.”

He smirks, sliding in closer to you. “Well, we… knew that, didn’t we?”

You breathe in his scent– cigarettes, leather, gunpowder, and liquorice aftershave. It’s all too much– he’s too close, and you have too much pent up energy. Your skin is positively electric, so is his, and Budd’s lips are so fucking there–

“Go ahead. Kiss me,” he groans, and you do, pressing your lips forward. Your hands go to his chest, and you push him against the opposite wall. The two of you make out like that for a few minutes, before he lifts you up. You wrap your legs around his hips, and reach down to unbuckle his torn up black dress pants in a hasty rush.

“Fuck, daddy,” you moan, finally receiving him. He groans something similar, burying his face in your neck, and you’re pinned against the wall, bouncing with every rough thrust he gives you.

“Daddy’s got his girl. That’s right… fuck, mmm, baby girl…” He’s big, and everything you had imagined. Each and every pound of his dick erases one kill you made that night, one target, one bullet, one slash.

Forget it, forget it, unffff…

Your blood hums in your ears, heart pumping. You’re still feeling the adrenaline from today, and you need this, you fucking need to come so bad, god Budd is so good…

“Come on, angel,” he rasps, holding you tight, “You’re perfect. Be a good girl and come for me.”

You cry out, grasping his big shoulders, and he fucks you through it, rocking you. He pounds in a few more times, then pulls out, coming against the wall.

A few seconds of silence pass, the dull chatter of Bill’s passive-aggressive admonishment still floating from the living space. Budd looks like he’s going to try and say something. You want to hear it, but you don’t allow yourself to.

Budd cleans the wall, and rubs a hand up your inner thigh. You grind your hips a little, and stretch.

“I needed that.” It was your version of thanks. He nods, smiling softly. Then you walk past him, back to your room, and curl up, hugging a pillow.

—-

“Budd. Sit.”

“What’s up, big brother?” Budd asks, slouching on the couch. He’s got a lot on his mind, but he never lets it affect his work. He had a lot of problems with what he did, and not much of an outlet for the pain of it except you. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous… his brother was good at finding out about things, and with Budd and you right now, there was a lot to find out.

“Black Mamba.”

Budd relaxes a little. “Mm? What about her?” he asks, lighting a cigarette.

“She needs to be taken out.”

Budd gets serious, leaning forward. Normally, he would never ask questions, but he knows how close you are to Beatrix… and how close Bill is himself.

“Can I ask why?” Budd asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Bill doesn’t turn around. “No, you may not.”

—-

You and Beatrix sit by the campfire. It’s the Mojave Desert nighttimes that get you sentimental, and right now, you’re feeling it under the stars.

It’s about two months since you and Budd started sleeping together to help beat stress after missions. Each time, he’d find you, in the kitchen, in your room, in his room, in a closet, on the balcony, wherever, and fuck you until you sobbed. It’s always hot, and it’s always satisfying.

You always want more… but each time he asks what you can become, with those hopeful, lovesick icy blue eyes, you respond with the same thing:

“It’s not personal.”

You hate the crestfallen looks more than anything, but it’s self defence. It’s probably best for him, as well.  What good did feelings ever do you? What good would they ever do? It’s a weakness you both can’t afford to harbour.

“Hey,” Bea interrupts your deep thoughts, poking the fire. You look up at her through the orange sparks. “Is there something going on between you and Budd?”

Your defences go up. “No.”

She just smiles. “I had a thing with Bill once. It’s okay. They’re attractive brothers. Can I ask you a question?”

“As long as it’s not that one.”

“How many scars you have? Physical scars.”

You smile. “A lot.”

“I mean… ones that aren’t from this.”

You feel your wrist deftly. “I fell when I was six, split my thumb. Fell when I was 10, split my knee. Fell when I was 13, split my elbow– see where this is going? Then Bill came along to get me, I met you, and hell– I’m one big walking scar now.” She laughs.

“I only have one from before.” She reaches down to her wrist, and clears her throat. “Tai, I’ve… (y/n). I’ve been meaning to say something.”

“Yeah?” You take a swig from your beer bottle, setting it down. You wipe the dust from your hands off on your low rise jeans.

“I wanna say… I know friendship is discouraged in this line of work. But you’re the closest thing to a sister I’ve got. And I wanted to say thank you.”

Your mind stalls a little. You don’t say thank you in this business. You just don’t. But this is different, you can tell. No snarky jabs. No teasing. Just…

“You’re welcome,” you answer, and the two of you clink your beers over the fire. She looks down.

“I’m pregnant.”

“What?” you choke.

“I want you to be the godmother.”

“Bea–”

“Please.”

You stay silent. If you even mentioned this to anyone else, you’d both be dead. But despite all warnings, you can’t help but nod.

—

“Listen to what I’m telling you, honey.”

Your tears fall silently on your hand, and you wipe them off before Budd notices them. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Or Bill.”

“If you don’t do it…” he murmurs desperately, “He’ll kill you. He’ll make me kill you.” You know this. You know it plain as day.

“You’re going to betray her.”

“I’m doing my job. You do yours, and we come out clean. We can…” he sighs, holding you closer to him, “We can even get away for a while. You and me.”

You calm yourself down, and let Budd kiss you down to the pillows. Don’t make attachments. There’s no reason why you can’t carry this out. Every snake for herself.

—

Beatrix stands in the middle of the circle, looking around.

“What is this?”

You try to look her in the eye. She glares dead ahead at Bill. You’re all standing in the middle of the desert, by a church.

“Has to be done, Bea,” Bill says, and everyone gets out their guns.

“You know I can tear through each and every one of you,” she snarls.

“Not her, honey,” Budd speaks up, looking at you. “You two are matched. If you tear through all of us, you’ve still got her.” The blonde looks at you, hurt evident in her eyes.

“You may call me sadistic,” Bill continues, “But I’d argue that right now, I’m at my most… masochistic.”

Budd rubs your back softly, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Bill–” Bea tries to plead. “It’s your ba–”

Unable to bear it, you turn your gun on Bill, and start firing before he can shoot her. You know Budd will help you. There’s a flurry of bullets, and Budd looks over at you. You look at him, and he goes to make a jump for you… you think you see his gun pulled, and you’re stunned.  _Would he really do you in for Bill?_

A bullet clips you in the back of the ribs, just grazing vitals, and you fall over.

O'Ren stands over you, and prods you with a grin.

“It appears the Taipan can be outmatched.”

“You sick pieces of shit,” Budd whispers under his breath, turning away.

Beatrix screams, Budd drops his weapon, and the guns are turned on the Black Mamba.


	10. Sidewinder [Volume II] (Budd x Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years after you “died”, you realize you can’t keep up the charade alone.

You slam another beer down in the country dive bar, just outside of El Paso.

“And then I got him in real close. I pulled him right to my face, and he knew what he’d done.” You wipe your mouth, drunk out of your mind. “And then… and then he tried to tell me he still loved me, that he was sorry, and you know what I did?”

The young guy bartending raises his eyebrows. “What’d you do?”

“I stuck my knife right into his heart,” you sniffle, and take another sip of beer. The bartender spends a long time staring at you, then sighs, leaning forward.

“Shit, honey. You ain’t seen him since that day, have you?”

A single tear rolls down your cheek.

“No.”

Driving down the desert highway, you start to feel nervous. It had been four years since you had seen any of them. They all thought you were dead, and you had remained under the radar. You still hadn’t let anyone get too close to you over this time– maybe because your training was so heavily ingrained in you, or maybe because of Budd.

Even whispering his name made you want to cry.

All he’d been was a fuck buddy. But there was definitely something more there, something you hadn’t left behind that day. You feel the sharp pain in the right side of your ribs where the bullet had gone through as you turn to get your sunglasses from the compartment.

You had blamed him for a while– for turning on you. Now, the heat of the day in your memory blurred the lines. You weren’t even sure if he had turned on you or not. It just made you feel better to tell yourself you found him, and took your revenge.

But you couldn’t ignore it any longer. You had to find him.

The place you had tracked him down to was almost impossible to pinpoint. He was living in a trailer, just off the highway by the mountains.

After driving a day and a half, you finally see it in the distance. A fire crackles in front of it, and you pull over. Closing the door, nobody makes a move to exit the trailer, so you walk closer to it.

Just as you’re getting up to the front door, it blows open, and the door hurtles past you. You look at it, then inside, where Budd’s sitting in a lawn chair with a shotgun, a cowboy hat hanging low on his head.

Your heart hammers in your chest, as you two look at each other again. He stands up, stunned, and you gasp a little, remembering to breathe.

“So,” you laugh weakly, stepping one cowboy boot up onto his doorstep. “I take it you’ve quit the life too.”

—

He pours two margaritas, and holds one out. “There you go. Wrap your lips around that.” That sends shivers through you.

“You’ve changed,” you mention, accepting the drink with a good glance to his biceps.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Guess so. Not for the better, I’m told. Nice boots.”

“You still talk to Bill? …You too.”

“You know I’m not gonna rat on ya.”

“I just mean, do you still talk as brothers?” Budd looks down. Must be a sore subject now, so you change it. “Where do you work?”

“Titty bar.”

“Oh,” you smirk, “That’s nice. I’m a stripper.”

He looks up. “No shit.” He shakes his head. “Always had the ass for it.”

“I’m fucking with you,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, “The day I become a stripper is the day I’ll wish I really had been shot.” You shrug. “Just me, though. Nothing wrong with other girls making honest money… from  _not_  killing people.”

“Cheers to that,” he mutters, and you clink your little jars of ice and tequila, “ _I’d_  even become a fuckin’ stripper if it meant erasing the messy shit I’ve done.” You look at him for a while, and he feels your eyes on him. After a second, he taps his glass. “You can say it, honey.”

“Say what?” He gives you a look, and you shake your head. “Budd, I’m not gonna say shit.” You take a long sip of your drink, and look at him, your heart beating faster. He definitely has changed, from a clean cut, sharply dressed suit-wearing assassin to a drunk cowboy, jeans, dusty wifebeater and all. But as much as you denied it, you wanted him to be  _your_  drunk cowboy. Even after all these years of fantasizing about killing him for what he did (or was made to do) one thing was still painfully clear.

“What is it?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. Those icy blue eyes are searching, and you feel a lump in your throat.

“I still love you.”

You lean forward, and pressing a hand to his chest, kiss him. He accepts your kiss, wrapping his arms around the back of your head, and you straddle him, the two of you kissing like you’ll die without each other. When you pull away, he looks down, laughing a little. His brown hair falls in his eyes, and you brush it back as he looks back up.

“What do you mean ‘still’?”

You push him a little, smirking. He was right– you had never said it before, but the both of you knew. It was unspoken, each time he’d slept with you, but the feelings grew each time.

You hug your arms around yourself. “I was vulnerable. You know I couldn’t admit it to myself. Especially with Bill.”

“I understand, honey. You don’t gotta explain it.” He sits back, obviously relieved. “Hell. I thought you’d take one look at me now, and high tail it. That is, if you ever came back.”

“You glad I did?” you ask, laying him down.

“Yes,” he groans, and you grind down onto him, kissing again. His hands wander up your ass, squeezing you, and you shudder. It’s as if no time has passed.

Tears gather in your eyes as you lift yourself up onto him, and he moans your name softly as he pushes in.

“I missed you,” you whisper, cradling his face, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Missed you too, honey.”

You rock down onto him, every emotion you’d felt toward Budd through the past 4 years coming to the surface. As your anger bubbles up, you ride him harder, and he clutches your hips.

“Why’d you help him?”

“He’s my brother.”

“Kiddo was like a sister to me. They would have killed me. All of them. For all you know, I was dead for four years.”

“And I blamed myself for all of 'em, you better believe I did. But I went for you. When they all started shootin’, I protected you.”

“Really,” you breathe, lifting up your shirt to expose your breasts and the scar that ran down your rib cage, “Then how did I get this?”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, “I’m so sorry, angel… I couldn’t stop that.”

You wish you had a gun, a sword, anything to hold to his neck and demand he tell the truth. But you can see in those eyes, that always showed what he was thinking, that he was.

You fall into him, laying over top as he fucks you to completion. You both gasp each others’ names, and he sighs, holding you in his arms in that little desert trailer.

You listen to the sound of distant coyotes, and the rare rattle of a passing snake. Budd kisses you lazily, and you kiss back with soft, sweet moans, making up for time lost. Surrounded by predators instead of preying yourself, you’ve never felt more at ease.

Budd kisses your temple, sighing. “She’s still alive, you know.”

You hold your breath. You don’t know how to respond.

“All the others are dead… and she’s coming for us too.”

“…For you.”

He looks down at you, and you stare straight ahead at that door. If Beatrix came through that door right now swinging a Hattori Hanzo, you don’t know which side you’d pick.

Or maybe you do. You just don’t want to say it.


	11. Having A Priest Kink With Michael Would Include

  * You’d keep visiting him to hear him speak at the church
  * His voice always captivated you. He really seems passionate, too
  * You start to tease him through confessional, confessing to how many times you touch yourself thinking of him
  * While he does believe in what he preaches, he also believes in having a little fun (he does drink and smoke all the time)… so one day, in the confessional, he coaches you through touching yourself, as he palms himself 
  * You start a secret relationship with him, meeting in the back of the church, fucking back there, in his car, late at night back at his house
  * You love it when he reads you verses in that voice of his, while you imagine him inside you…
  * He knows what he does to you, and sometimes, he’ll leave his collar just a little bit more open than usual
  * The thrill of the secretive sex and the taboo of it all makes things so much hotter 
  * Him wearing his priest uniform as he takes you for a ride on his Harley, getting it a little dusty yummmmm 
  * He’d wear his black cowboy hat with his uniform during his sermons. He said it makes things more personal 
  * The irony of him calling you angel is not lost on either of you ;) 



 

 


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